


Trenzalore

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: Darkness and Light [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (sorry - still no smut), CIRCLE OF LIFE, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fields of Trenzalore, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Minor Character Death, POV Twelfth Doctor, Post-Episode: s09e02 The Witch's Familiar, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, Sleeping Together, Spoilers for Episode: 2013 Xmas The Time of the Doctor, Survivor Guilt, Telepathic Bond, Treasure every moment, War, gratefulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 05:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20902523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: A good sleep can help - but might also remind you why you didn't have had one for too long. Maybe it's time for Twelve to show Clara what happened on Trenzalore. And vice versa.





	Trenzalore

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever wondered what it's like to stand against monsters for hundreds of years?  
What effect it has on a person?  
Well, I suggest you read [The Memory of Sunrise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719050) by [lornesgoldenhair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornesgoldenhair/pseuds/lornesgoldenhair) for details. This one was definitely inspired by it.

He woke up. He felt strange. It took him some time to orient himself. He looked around. His TARDIS. He was in his room. He was in his bed. He smelled a familiar smell. Clara’s smell. He looked down. Chocolate brown hair. It took him a moment to realize Clara laid in his arms. Odd.

A dream?

He could smell Clara’s smell. He could feel the warmth of her body. His back ached from lying too long in the same position. So, no, probably not a dream.

He knew the feeling from long ago. Long, long, ago. What was it?

His mouth tasted strange. Dry.

Morning breath?

He must have been sleeping.

He took a last deep breath to inhale Clara’s smell, then rolled on his back to stretch his limbs and gain his full consciousness.

He hadn’t been fast asleep for centuries. He only allowed himself short catnaps. Whenever he fell asleep for more than a few minutes he would be interrupted by nightmares anyway. Sometimes waking up from his own screams, finding himself covered with cold sweat.

It hadn’t always been that way.

_Trenzalore._

They attacked during the night. Except for the short moment between the sunrise and sunset it was always night. At the beginning he had assumed the same daily routine as the citizens. Basically, the day began with the sunrise/sunset. Then people would go about their usual activities to go to bed about sixteen hours later. He stayed up a little longer, not needing as much sleep as the human citizens. But eventually, he would sleep for two to four hours.

His enemies soon figured out this routine. They attacked during his resting phases before sunrise. He went to bed earlier and rose earlier. They figured it out. He went to bed after sunset. They figured it out. He started to take his sleep irregularly with no distinguishable pattern. This worked well for a while.

Until that one night. A Dalek attack on two different sides of the town. He had needed too long to get up and figure out where to fight first. They were able to burn down some sheds in the South before he defeated them. He battled the others in the North, but he was too late to save a small house near the clocktower.

_As he stood in the burning ruins and saw the last Dalek flee, he heard a small voice behind him._

_“Doctor?”_

_There was a small hand reaching out from under a smoldering beam. He went to his knees and immediately started to clear away the debris. _

_“Don’t worry, I’m here, I’m coming to help you.”_

_He finally was able to lift the beam with the help of his screwdriver. Beneath it lay the shattered body of a girl._

_“Doctor?” _

_“Shhh, don’t worry, I’m here, I’ll help you.” _

_He saw her brown eyes looking up to him, full of pain and trust. It hit him hard as he recognized those eyes. He knew the girl. _

_Her parents had asked him to name her when she was born, because they wanted to thank him for rescuing them during a Cyberman attack. Because of her round face and her beautiful eyes – and because he never was particularly good with names – he suggested to name her Clara. This must have been about twelve years earlier._

_As Clara grew up, she would often visit him in his workshop. Sometimes just sitting there by the fire, watching him making toys. Sometimes sitting beside him, doing her homework. Sometimes she begged him to tell her a story from his travels. She especially loved the ones where her namesake played a role. When he once asked her what she wanted to become when she grew up, she answered that she wanted to grow up to be a strong and clever time travelling woman like Clara Oswald._

_Now this same Clara was lying there, bleeding, obviously seriously wounded._

_“Clara, I’m here, I will help you.” He uttered as he carefully examined the wounds. His sonic told him immediately that there was no hope. Everything considered, she should be already dead. It was her iron will and hope that he would save her that kept her alive._

_“Doctor, I’m so cold.”_

_“Don’t worry, I’ll save you, Clara.”_

_He took off his coat to cover her body. Then he scooped her in his arms and ran towards his workshop. Maybe he could still do something for her. He laid her down on his own bed. He wanted to get up to get some bandages and pain killers, but he felt a little hand grab his sleeve._

_“Doctor, don’t go, stay with me. Just tell me: was I as brave as Clara Oswald?” _

_Her voice was nearly a whisper._

_He felt his hearts clench. He knelt down, stroked her chocolate brown hair and said softly:_

_“You were just as brave as Clara Oswald, if not braver, and you make a wonderful companion, Clara Pinkerton.” _

_He felt her muscles relax, all life leaving her body. She was dead. _

_The Doctor let his head fall on the bed sheet and started to cry helplessly. He heard his sobs echoing from the walls. 300 years of siege and hundreds of dead citizens, he had always moved on. But the death of this little girl broke his hearts. _

“Shhh, Doctor, it’s okay. Let it all out.”

He hadn’t realized that the Clara beside him had wrapped her arm around him, stroking his head. He hadn’t even realized that he was not on Trenzalore and that he heard his own sobs echoing not from the walls of a gloomy workshop, but from the walls of his room in the TARDIS. He buried his head in Clara’s breast.

“Is this what keeps you from sleeping, Doctor? Trenzalore? The dead girl?”

Of course. With her arm wrapped around him for he didn’t know how long she had been able to see. He realized that he was trembling helplessly in her arms as the tears fell. Tears he had last been able to shed kneeling beside a dead little girl.

He made an attempt to regain his composure.

“She was… I could have saved her… I failed…”

was all he managed before another rush of sobs sent him trembling defenselessly in her arms again. She held him, stroked his head and mercifully didn’t ask any further.

A part of him wanted nothing more than to tell her everything that happened. But it was such a long story of unspeakable horrors that it seemed to have no beginning and no end. Another part wanted to run away and hide. The biggest part of him, however, just wanted to be held and let himself drown in the warmth and smell of her body without talking about it. He gave in to that part and she seemed to know what he needed, silently cradling him.

He didn’t know how long it took until the tears finally ceased. He looked up at her and through his blurred vision he saw her looking back at him with deep sympathy and affection as she handed him the box with tissues. He took his time to clean his nose and his face, to gather his thoughts. Then he cleared his throat and began to speak, low and hoarse:

“You saw was happened to Clara, the other Clara. It happened because I was asleep and it took some minutes to get my shoes on, run outside and decide which direction to take, where to strike first. I decided wrong, went to the South first, to the farmhouses there. It was their tactics, when I arrived, they just had set some sheds on fire to distract me. Their main attack was North of the watchtower, burning down houses. It was not the first time my decision was wrong, and people died. It was always devasting, but…”

He took a deep breath before he could continue. He needed her to understand.

“…but she was special. With her I could talk. When I told her about our adventures it helped me to remember you, too. Helped me to not forget what we did together, but especially to remember how you looked, how you walked and how you spoke. If you fight battles for too long, you forget. You forget the happy times. You forget your past. Before long, it seems that your whole life has been a never-ending battle. You forget everything that was good and right. And with time you even forget… the ones… you… loved.”

He felt her squeezing his shoulder a little without saying a word. He closed his eyes. He needed to tell this story now or he would probably not find the courage again.

“She loved my stories, of course. But she was a very unique, special person. She asked good questions. She was good at drawing. Sometimes we would just sketch or draw something side by side. Her subjects a bit more varied than mine, of course.”

He smiled at the memory of him drawing Clara, his Clara, to keep the memory of her face alive. And the girl drawing spaceships and aliens and the Earth the way she imagined them from his stories. Then his expression darkened.

“After she died, I decided to stop lying down to sleep. I would nap in my chair, fully clothed. That way I was always alert, always ready to run out and fight. I was always listening for possible hints of an attack. At the first sign, I scooted up and checked. They would never again catch me off guard.”

He flinched at the memory of more and ever more violent attacks. Even with the Silence helping him, he couldn’t prevent so many deaths. Shot, blasted, burnt down, terribly maimed. 

“I never let anybody again come as close as this little girl. I saw they all would die on me, one way or the other. And far too often in a horrible way. I couldn’t go through this one more time.”

He took a deep breath before he continued.

“The graveyard became larger and larger. And all those dead citizens reminded me it was my fault. I often could name what made a citizen ending up there, all too often a mistake I made in defending.”

“They would all have died if it wasn’t for you taking a stand.”

Clara’s voice was low and soft.

“They wouldn’t have had to die if I wouldn’t have landed there.”

He replied solemnly. He felt Clara tilting her head against his head.

“You forget that the reason for all the monsters being there was the crack in time with the Timelords calling out. Trenzalore was under siege before you arrived.”

That crack. He still didn’t know what happened. He still didn’t know why he was still here. He should be dead and gone by now, died in his last incarnation on Trenzalore. Why had he regenerated? Why was he still here? He thought often about it, playing through all possibilities and ending up with no satisfying solution. It troubled him, even upset him, because he couldn’t understand it, couldn’t figure out if it was good or some evil plan.

_He saw himself crouched down beside the crack. _

_But it wasn’t him. _

_It was Clara. He was Clara._

She had reversed the connection on her own. He had no idea she could do it. Of course, his impossible girl could, how could he even doubt it?

_He heard himself speak:_

_“Listen to me, you lot. Listen! Help him. Help him change the future. Do it. Do something.”_

_He felt deep despair that the Doctor – he – was going to die. He felt the determination to do something about it. If it meant to shatter herself one more time, she would do it. If there was only the tiniest chance to save him, she was willing to risk the whole universe for it. _

_“You've been asking a question, and it's time someone told you you've been getting it wrong. His name, his name is the Doctor. All the name he needs. Everything you need to know about him. And if you love him, and you should, help him. Help him.”_

_He saw the regeneration energy flowing and the crack shutting._

“You?” He exclaimed in surprise, breaking the bond and looking up at her.

She nodded.

“All it needed was you begging the Timelords to change the future?”

“Yep. Didn’t take more than asking the Timelords to screw the rules.”

“They never do.”

“Well, obviously they did. Otherwise you wouldn’t be lying here.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Superior schoolteacher skills.”

She showed her wonderful smug smile. The one that made him tease her sometimes, just to provoke a banter and earn it after she won.

“Nah. There must have been something else.”

“Were you ever able to resist those eyes?”

She said, giving him her best inflated puppy eyes.

“Don’t do that! Not that thing with the eyes! I had no idea this worked on all the Timelords. I thought it was just me.”

He smiled.

“They didn’t stand a chance.”

Suddenly she yawned. It was only now he realized the dark circles around her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted.

“There are black things around your eyes. Looks awful.”

She looked at him surprised. Or cross? He wondered how this version of him could find decent words when holding speeches or telling stories, yet, screwing up every time when trying to convey something personal.

“Old. Jaded. Exhausted. Tired. You look tired.”

He hoped this was better. A hint of a smile on her face.

“Er, … I was captured, imprisoned, attempted to kill…”

She used her hand to count.

“…at least five times I think, but it’s hard to keep track on planets like Skaro. I had to walk miles in a sewer with a maniac psychopath as my only companion. I was stuck in a Dalek's casing. I had to tend to an idiot who tries everything to hurt himself. I discovered my best friend tries deliberately to regenerate, stupid enough not to realize that this is definitely not what brightens up my day.”

Her voice softened as she added.

“And I was standing on guard, so my Doctor got finally some undisturbed sleep, which he utterly needed and deserved. Let’s just say it’s been quite a day.”

She stroked his head. She was not cross, then. Suddenly her words sunk in.

“You didn’t sleep when I slept?”

“No, I promised to fend off your nightmares and wanted to be sure to realize if you had a bad dream.”

“How long have I slept?”

“About two hours, I think.”

She yawned again. To his surprise, he yawned, too. He couldn’t remember when he yawned last time. Must have been centuries. And if he was honest with himself, he could use some more of this dreamless sleep thing. Especially with this extra of Clara’s warmth and smell. On the other hand, he wanted Clara to get some sleep, too.

“I don’t think it’s necessary that you stay awake. I… I’m sure it’s your smell that keeps away the monsters.”

“Reminds me I have to write you some cue cards on how to interact with humans. Telling a lady her smell is so bad it scares away monsters is not an appropriate thing to say.”

Her words sounded cross, but she giggled to them, so, probably not cross. Some cue cards to help him not running into conflicts like these sounded like a good idea. He smiled sheepishly.

“So, how about…” he gestured vaguely “…you know, uhm, lie down so we are both comfortable?”

“Sounds good”, her reply came.

She stood up, which surprised him. To his knowledge, this was the opposite of lying down. Then he realized she was still wearing her jogging suit and probably wanted to change into something more comfortable to sleep in.

She pulled the zipper of her top. He turned his back to her. He knew she didn’t mind him watching, being not really coy around him. Proof enough for him that she didn’t see him like she had seen P.E. or even his previous incarnation. He, however, found it easier to keep the flood of his emotions at bay when he looked away.

Minutes later he felt her sneaking beneath the duvet, coming to rest at his side.

“Okay?”

She asked softly. He wondered if she could wrap herself around him like she did previously. He struggled finding the right words to ask her. Maybe he could just make her. He held up his hand. She took it. He pulled at it, effectively covering himself with her as if she was a blanket.

She gave a short, surprised chuckle, then wrapped herself fully around him.

“You could have just asked, daft old man.”

He felt her warm body covering his back and her arm wrapping his chest. She broke the embrace one more time to pull the duvet up, so it covered both their bodies. Then her arm came back.

“Better?” she asked.

“Mhm. Comfortable enough for you to sleep?” He asked.

“Sure. Just relax. You still seem tense. What’s the matter?”

He was reluctant, but with her body so close, she would sure see it anyway. Better he had a certain control of what to show her.

_The graveyard. Endless rows of tombstones with names and dates engraved._

_People he knew._

_People who died too soon._

_Children. Young adults. Mothers. Fathers. Wives. Husbands._

_Too soon._

_Shot by a Dalek._

_Zapped by a Cyberman._

_Smashed under the ruins of his house._

_Suffocated while fighting the fire that threatened her children._

_Because of him. _

_All because of him._

He felt her other arm near his head, her hand softly stroking his head.

“You don’t look right, Doctor.” She softly murmured.

“What do you mean? You see them, you see the graves as clearly as I see them.”

“Yes, I’m seeing what you are seeing, but I’ll show you what I am seeing.”

He felt her taking the lead in his head. Clara read out the names, dates and inscriptions. She added what she made of it and learned from the surroundings.

_Ethel and Harry Wainsworth._

_The grave of a couple that married in their twenties and died of old age after being together for well over fifty years, him dying shortly after her._

_Barnable Hicks_

_Inventor and professor at the local college. Inspiring generations of young students to be creative and believe in themselves – and the Doctor. _

_He was so well loved and respected that even the children of the children of his students still brought flowers to his grave on his birthday._

_Amengard Adler_

_Midwife and medical advisor at the City Counsel of Christmas. _

_Mastermind of the Christmas Health Care System._

_Responsible for helping hundreds of new citizens to see their first sunrise. Responsible for major improvements in the health care system of Christmas, making sure that everyone got the best medical treatment, regardless of social standing. _

_Lisa “Gran” Epcot_

_Mother of six, grandmother of fourteen. Beloved head of the Epcot family. Died in her sleep a few days after seeing her second great-grandchild. _

“None of them would have seen old age if it hadn’t been for you fighting back the monsters. Do you remember them?”

_He remembered all of them. _

_Suddenly he was at the wedding of Maria Epcot, youngest granddaughter of Gran Epcot. Gran had asked him for a dance and as they were waltzing to the music, they recalled stories from when her kids were younger. Tricks they played, toys he repaired, mishaps and funny occasions. They laughed together. When he guided her back to her place, she had laid her old hand on his arm. She looked up at him with her grey-green eyes and said:_

_“You know Doctor, I lived a long and good life. I’m surrounded by a loving family and so whenever it is my time to die, I’ll die happy. I know you are much older than me and I know that the woman you love can’t be by your side, because you care deeply for her and treasured her wellbeing more than your own happiness._

_There is not much comfort I can offer. I can only say that I don’t take it for granted. I know that my children could grow up and live their own lives because you were always standing on guard, protecting Christmas. _

_I wanted to thank you for it. And I can imagine that when you are fighting for so long, you sometimes forget what you are fighting for. Look around you, Doctor. Look at all those children playing together, look at the couples dancing, being happy they have each other, look at the teenagers, still young and foolish, but will soon assume their roles in society, shaping their community. They are still there because you are there. And even if it all should end tomorrow in fire and smoke – the time until now was a gift, this moment is a gift, and every single happy moment in life is a gift._

_Thank you for being the Doctor.”_

Slowly the memory faded, and he was back in his room, in his bed. He realized that Clara had been fallen asleep to the memory of the wedding. He figured the telepathic bonding was exhausting for an untrained human brain.

She was taking calm and even breaths and let out a small snore every five breaths or so. He found it utterly adorable. He would have loved to watch her sleeping but didn’t want to disturb her by changing his position.

Gran was right, he thought. As always, a very wise woman. Every single happy moment was a gift. Being able to lie here, in the safety of his TARDIS, in his own bed with the most beautiful and clever woman in the universe protectively wrapped around him he was probably the luckiest man alive.

He wanted to make this moment last forever, but already felt the tiredness claiming his body. Listening to the soothing sound of Clara’s breath, surrounded by her smell and her warmth, he fell asleep a few moments later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos for this series so far. I really appreciate it.
> 
> And if you ever wondered how Clara got the idea of writing him those cue cards - here you are.
> 
> I promise I haven't forgotten that this Doctor is in a critical health condition. ;)


End file.
